The Cold Skin Of My Lover
by SUPRNTRAL LVR
Summary: Sam decides he's through with hunting. But then, hunting alone, Dean runs into an especially deadly enemy - a Siren. Without Sam to help him, Dean's days become numbered... limp!Dean and angst!Sam Nightmares and Breakdowns
1. Arguements

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns...**

Dean rolled the Impala to a halt outside the motel and sat inside it for a few moments, glancing over towards their room. The curtains were still closed, the door still tightly shut. It had been three days since their episode with the red-eyed demons, and they had moved on. Or at least tried to. Sam wasn't even pretending he was okay these days, he just spent his hours sitting staring at nothing or out on pointless walks around town. It was as if he had just died inside, lost his will to do anything at all. It made Dean feel useless, feel like he had failed as a brother. Failed to protect him. Dean sighed and picked up the two takeaway coffees and the newspaper in the passenger seat, then pushed his way out of the Impala. Thin curls of smoke coiled upwards, silvery spirals in the cold, grey morning light. Dean strode over to their room, pulling out his keys, and unlocked the door.

Inside, the room was almost completely devoid of sunlight. Dean stood in the doorway for a few moments, blinking hard as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He made out a lumpy mass on one of the beds and headed over to it, moving cautiously in case Sam was in a bad mood. The nightmares had stopped at last, so Sam no longer screamed at night. Now he just lay awake, staring at the ceiling in that deadened, blank way that terrified Dean even more.

"Sammy?" Dean called softly, stopping beside the bed. "I got coffee. You gonna get up today?"

Sam shifted slightly, but his head remained buried in the pillow. Dean reached down and shook his shoulder gently. "Sam. Hey, Sam. Its past eleven, man, kinda late for you."

"Go 'way, Dean," Sam mumbled.

Dean sighed and put the coffee down on the bedside table. "You know where it is," he said, glancing at the cups from the day before that were gathering on the table, each untouched. Dean put his own coffee down and began to clear them away.

"Hunters don't do tidying," he muttered. "Seriously, man, you're killing me here."

Sam muttered something incoherent. Dean shook his head and moved over to the table on the other side of the room, shaking open the newspaper. He hadn't come to this town for a hunt, exactly the opposite actually. He had chosen this one because it looked like there was nothing going on, and he didn't wanted Sam to take a break. Of course, when he wanted that he had to be sneaky and pretend that he thought that there was something there. And he was getting pretty fed up of acting all the time.

He looked down at the newspaper, more out of habit than looking for a hunt. Nothing on the first few pages, so he skipped to missing persons. _Ryan Peterson, 23, last seen in Grove Street... Ian Brooks, 25, last seen in Godwin Park... Melissa Lisonburg, 19, Hartford Road... Peter Johnson, 22, Grove Street... wait, Grove Street again? _Dean frowned. And wasn't Godwin Park somewhere nearby that road? He pulled a map out of his pocket (he normally kept one in there for when he was in the Impala) and spread it out beside the newspaper. He trailed his finger over it, stopping on Grove Street. It was right on the edge of town, and led onto the motorway which cut through the forest and headed towards the beach. And sure enough, Godwin park took up part of the forest beside the town, right next to Hartford Road. Dean frowned, and then packed the map back into his pocket. He turned his head towards Sam. Maybe his brother needed a hunt, and this could just stop in a dead end anyway...

"Sam!" he called. "Sammy, up. I need you."

Sam lifted his head and twisted around, his eyes bloodshot and cold. "What do you want, Dean?" he muttered.

Dean struggled not to just sit and stare at his brother's bedraggled, beaten appearance. "There's a bunch of missing persons from the same area, looks like there could be something going on down there. Can you look up these people's records while I go down to the police station and find out what happened?"

Sam sat up slowly and put his head in his hands. "Whatever."

Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam that it was time he snapped out of it, got back into the game, but the sight of his brother stopped him short. Instead, he asked,

"You okay, Sam?"

Sam looked up at him slowly. "I thought you didn't want any chick flick moments," he said flatly. Then he got up and went into the bathroom.

Dean sighed and rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. He hadn't felt so utterly helpless like this since Jessica had died. And, just like then, he had no idea what to do. Dean rose to his feet and strode over to the door. He glanced over his shoulder one more time as the shower started up, and then ducked outside again, his heart heavy.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

"So your name's Lucy, huh?" Dean checked, leaning on the desk of the police station. "Might I say that you're the most beautiful secretary I've ever seen?"

Lucy grinned and tucked her hair back behind her ear. She slid the files across the desk towards him, and he flipped them open, trying to focus on the missing people instead of Lucy's flirty smile.

"So, the first guy... uh, Ryan Peterson, he vanished about a month ago?"

"Yeah. The next guy a week later, and the next a week after that. Then there was the first girl, Melissa."

"And its all in the same area, right?" Dean added, frowning.

"Yes, officer. But we can never find out who's going to be taken next. The victims didn't even know each other."

Dean nodded, frowning. "It says here that Ryan was on his way to the beach, where he worked at a cafe... and Peter was also on his way to the beach to meet his girlfriend when he was attacked. Ian was at the park... it doesn't say what he was doing there," he added, looking up at Lucy.

"No, but his friends said that he was pretty into baseball," Lucy replied. "We think he might have been just practicing or something, we found a bat."

"But no ball?"

"No. We don't know why there wasn't one there."

"And Melissa, she was returning from a party on the beach."

"Yes. We did think it was something to do with the beach, but one of the boys, Ian, was nowhere near it when he was taken."

Dean closed the files. "Okay, well thanks. I think this is all I need."

"Are you sure?" she asked quickly. "There's nothing else at all?"

He suppresed a grin. "Nah, I'll be okay. But maybe I'll come back here, you know, if I need some more info."

Lucy's face lit up. "Great. I'll be here."

Dean had already left the building when he realized that, for the first time, he had forgotten to get her number. Sam's bad attitude must be having a bad effect on him.

He was considering going back in and asking Lucy for her mobile number when another girl across the road caught his eye. His fingers on the file slackened and he almost dropped it, his mouth fell open and the only thing he could think was _Oh... holy... jesus..._

Her hair was the colour of moonlight, and cascaded down her back loose in a shimmering waterfall. Her skin was so pale that it was almost as white as snow, and her eyes glittered a deep, emerald green. Her body was slim and slender, her short, pleated skirt revealling long, delicate legs. Her face was small and pointed, slightly elfin. And Dean couldn't take his eyes off her, despite the fact that she had her arms curled around another man's neck. The man was looking just as in awe of her as Dean, his eyes fixed on hers as if he would never look away.

"Officer? Officer?"

Dean jerked and looked down at Lucy, who had emerged from the police station.

"I just thought you should have my number, just in case, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled taking the post-it she was holding out. She frowned in confusion and then looked across the road, and her face cleared.

"Oh," she muttered. "Never mind."

Dean tore his attention away from the girl and looked down at Lucy. "Huh? Why?"

"You want her, right? Everyone does."

"Who is she?" Dean knew that he should be comforting Lucy, but his mind was a complete blank. He couldn't think of anything but her.

"Her name is Alica, and every girl in this town hates here 'cos every man that sees her instantly dumps his girlfriend and goes after her instead."

"Whoa..." Dean noticed Lucy's dejected expression, and quickly changed his tack. "Uh, what a bitch."

Lucy smiled. "You're sweet, but don't bother. I can see that she's already caught you too." She turned towards the station again. "Don't try to pretend that you'll call, I'm not stupid."

Dean watched her go, and then turned to look back at Alica. She had finally released the man and was turning away, her long hair catching the sunlight. Dean couldn't help but suck in a small gasp as she left. Then he shook himself and turned away.

And bumped into someone else.

Dean stared up at the man, who looked like he might be even taller than Sam. He had spiked bronze hair which was swept back from his forehead, and his skin was just as pale as Alica's. His eyes were the same emerald green, but glittering and cold as he stared down at Dean, his mouth twisted into a cold snarl. Dean took a sharp step backwards, one hand automatically moving to his gun at the sight of him. The man's lip curled, and he looked away through the glass doors of the police station to where Lucy was sorting through something at the desk. He looked back to Dean, one eyebrow arching.

"Move," he snarled.

He pushed past Dean and into the building. Dean watched him go, his eyebrows raising. "What the..." he whispered to himself. Was this whole town full of ice cold super models?

He watched as he strode into the building. Lucy looked up, and her eyes went wide as saucers. She dropped the pen she was holding, and the man caught it before it hit the ground. Dean pulled himself away, scowling. There was no way he was losing to some pretty-boy... probably gay anyway... he turned and began to walk back towards the Impala.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Sam stared at his laptop's screen and saw nothing. He knew that the victims had no connections whatsoever, and he couldn't care less.

Had Chelsea been special somehow? Had she fitted some sort of description so that the demons had chosen her instead of someone else? Or had it just been completely random... why were these questions even important to him anymore? Chelsea was dead. And no amount of going over what had happened was ever going to bring her back again. He closed his eyes and leant back in his chair, rubbing them. He had no idea why he was so tired, considering that fact that he hardly did anything anymore. He wished that he could have rewound time and changed everything somehow, run in a different direction the night he was captured.

And he wouldn't have been able to change anything.

_God, I wish I'd never met her... _No. He couldn't think that. CHelsea had been amazing, someone he had been lucky to meet.

_Yeah. 'Cos I'm just so lucky._

He started as the door opened and Dean walked inside, a bunch of files under one arm. He had a strange look about him, one Sam recognized as a sign that Dean was probably going to get laid soon. He closed the laptop and pushed it away, looking away from Dean.

"So?" he asked expressionlessly.

Dean put down the files on the table. "So, I'm sure that this has something to do with the road that runs between here and the beach. Could be a haunting of some kind."

"No connection between the victims," Sam said in the same, flat voice. "There was nothing special about any of them. They were just ordinary people. So that gets us nothing."

Dean sighed and sat down opposite him. "Well, we know that there's definately something going on. Just have to work out what." He pulled the files towards him and began to shift through them.

Sam rose from the table and walked back over to his bed to lie down on it. He rolled over to face the wall. If he stayed at the table he knew that he and Dean would end up talking about Chelsea, and the last thing he wanted was to talk about her any more. Dean had tried to talk to him before about it, tried to get him to explain how he felt, but Sam didn't want to explain anything. He was fed up with going over things he couldn't change. Even thinking about her turned his heart to ice.

"Sam? I could do with some help with this."

Sam rolled over to look at Dean, his eyes narrowing. "Dean, I don't _care,"_ he replied coldly. "Go play with your stupid obsessions, just don't expect me to help you any more."

"Sam, you're just upset."

"Don't you get it Dean?" Sam snapped, sitting up abruptly. He was so fed up with all of this, with moving on time after time, hunt after hunt. "I'm tired," he said, realizing slowly that he was repeating Dean's words from earlier that year. "I'm tired of all of this. I can't take it anymore."

"Sam, what the hell are you talking about?"

Sam glared at him. "I'm done with hunting, Dean. I'm out."

He stood up and walked to the door and, without taking another look back, stepped outside.

**Okay, so not much happened in the first chapter but just wait, I have some plans for the Winchesters... muwahaha... if you like it, tell me and I'll update. No reviews and I'll just give up ;). Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Yours, SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	2. Enthralled

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns.**

It was raining. Sam leant against the wall of a shop, rain trickling down the back of his neck, and closed his eyes. Dean hadn't come to find him yet, and Sam didn't blame him. He had just committed family mutiny.

But what the hell was he going to do? Hunting had ruined his life, destroyed him over and over. Half of his family was dead because of this obsession his family shared. Every girl he had ever loved was dead. He had nothing left, apart from Dean. And, since hunting was Dean's life, maybe now he had lost Dean too.

He tilted his head back against the wall, the rain drops beating down on his face. He knew he would have to go back at some point. The storm clouds rolling over the sky had darkened the world so that it looked like it was twilight, although in reality it was only four in the afternoon. These days it was always raining.

Sam glanced towards the motel, which he could just see if he squinted far down on his left. Shivering, Sam slid down the wall and sat at the bottom of it, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He would go back after a few more minutes. Maybe if he picked up some food Dean wouldn't mind as much.

Yeah, right.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Dean stared down at their Dad's journal, doing his best to pretend to himself that he was searching for anything that might be associated with his hunt. He stared down at a rough sketch of a devils trap, and thought of the ones they had used to contain the red-eyed demons. He had never dreamed that Sam would quit hunting for good, not after their father's death. He had been so sure that this was it, that they would stay together now, watch out for each other.

_I'm done with hunting, Dean. I'm out._

He had felt like leaping to his feet and screaming, _Yeah? And where the fuck are you gonna go, Sam? _But he had just sat rigid, watching in shock as Sam pushed his way out of the door. It seemed that Sam had finally snapped under the pressure.

Dean flinched as he heard a key in the door. He realized that he was staring at the wall, and quickly re-focused on the journal. He turned the page numbly, listening hard as the key turned in the lock and the door opened. He knew it was Sam without even needing to look up, but he didn't say anything. He listened as Sam walked across the room and put down a brown paper bag on the table.

"I got some food."

"Okay."

Sam sighed and sat down opposite him. Dean pulled the brown bag towards him and opened it, pulling out a hamburger. Then he went back to reading, burger in one hand, journal in the other. Sam was going to apologize, he told himself. He was going to say that he was wrong, that he had overreacted, hell he was going to say _something._

"I'm serious, Dean."

Dean looked up at him. "What?"

"I'm serious. I don't want to hunt anymore."

Dean blinked at him for a few moments. Then, slowly, he closed the journal. "This doesn't change your visions, Sam. We can't have a normal life."

"I'm not asking you to."

Dean swallowed hard. This was what he had been most scared of. He had become so used to Sam being around, so used to having a family again. For a few moments, he just stared at his brother. Then he forced a smirk onto his face.

"Please, Sam, you can't cope on your own. Who's gonna tell you when you smudge your makeup?"

"Dean, stop it." Sam ran his hand through his sopping hair.

Dean's smirk faded, and he touched the back of his chair, his eyes narrowing.

"Sam, come on. You're just having a bad day. Tomorrow you'll wake up and you'll be back to normal."

"Dean."

Dean looked away. "You know, time and again, Dad thought that he was done with hunting. And then he remembered that he was saving lives."

"_Saving _lives?" Sam repeated, looking up at him sharply. "If I remember rightly, the last time we tried to 'save' someone four people died."

"That wasn't our fault and you know it. It was her choice-"

"_Suicide _is not a choice!" Sam yelled suddenly, bolting up from the table. "How the hell can you even try to justify what happened?"

Dean stared stonily back at him. "Bobby's been calling for you, trying to find out how you are. Its killing him how you're just ignoring him like this."

Sam glared at him. "Bobby is a jerk," he muttered.

"Well at least he's not deserting anyone!"

"I'm not deserting you, Dean."

"Yeah? Cos that's what it feels like." Dean took a step forwards, anger suddenly rearing up inside him. "Do you know how many times I have been there for you? How I have _never _let you down, no matter what? How if you needed help I would be there in a heartbeat? And what do I get in return?"

"I never asked you to follow me around like some sort of gaurd dog!"

"No, Sam, you don't ask, its a little something called being a _family. _Remember that?"

"Yeah, well our family came out just great, didn't it."

Sam turned away and strode over to his bed, sitting down on it and clasping his hands together. Dean watched him for a few moments, going over his last few words. Then he grabbed the journal, shoved it into his pocket, and made for the door.

"I'll be in town," he shot back at Sam. "Sorry I'm such a crap brother."

Without waiting to hear Sam's response, he pushed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. _Fuck you, _he thought furiously. _Fuck everything._

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

"Sorry I'm such a crap brother."

Sam opened his mouth, but the door was already slamming shut. He sat still, his mouth still open slightly. "You're not crap, Dean," he whispered. "I am. That's the whole point..."

He let his voice trail off and rose to his feet. By the time he reached the door and pulled it open, Dean and the Impala were gone. Sam stood in the doorway for a few moments, and then went back to his bed.

_Smooth, Sam, _He thought, putting his head in his hands._ You really screwed it up this time._

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Dean slowed the Impala outside the first cafe he saw. He shoved it into a parking space and got out of it. Almost at once, someone walked straight into him and he stumbled to one side, the journal almost slipping from his pocket.

"Watch it!" he snapped, straightening up and clenching his fists.

Alica's glittering green eyes locked onto his and held him. At once his brain switched on and started trying to shove pickup lines through his lips, but he couldn't move. He gawked at her like as if he were twelve years old again and checking out the girls in his class. Alica's red, cupid's bow mouth curved into a smile and she turned to face him properly, pearl white teeth visible between her lips.

"Hey," she said softly. "I haven't seen _you_ before."

Dean gaped at her blankly. "I... not... here."

"You're not from around here?"

He shook his head. Alica grinned and linked her arm through his. "Well, maybe you should tell me about yourself. Lets grab a coffee."

She pulled at him, and he stumbled numbly after her. Her silvery long hair swayed around her, sending the scent of forest and wild flowers into his face. Before he could pull himself together, he was sitting at a table with her opposite him, her fingers walking up and down his arm.

"What was your name?"

"D...De..."

"Dee?" she raised an eyebrow.

Dean shook himself forcefully. "Dean," he managed to spit out, smiling giddily at her. "I'm Dean."

"Well, I'm Alica."

All he could do was nod. She smiled again and leant towards him. Her green eyes seemed to grow bigger and bigger, and abruptly a sweet, cool voice blocked out everything else around him. Singing, he realized dimly. Someone was singing... he wanted to turn and find out who it was, but he couldnt move a muscle. All he could see were Alica's deep green eyes, pulling him closer and closer until he felt as if he were falling into the emerald orbs. The beautiful voice grew louder, filtering between high and low, mournful and somehow wonderful at the same time.

And then, suddenly, the voice cut off. Dean blinked and let out a small, protesting sound. It only took him a few moments to realize that Alica was moving out of the door, casting a glance over her shoulder at him before she vanished, a slow smile spreading over her face. Dean watched her, his mouth open slightly in forlorn confusion. A hand came down on his shoulder and he started away from it, sucking in a gasp.

A pretty waitress looked down at him, her face slightly worried. "Sir? I'm afraid we're closing now."

"Closing?"

She nodded at the clock on the wall, and Dean realized with a jolt that it was seven in the evening. _I left Sam at like four thirty. What the...?_

He stood up and swayed. The waitress reached out to steady him, her mouth opening in alarm, but he shrugged her off. "I'm okay, don't worry," he said, managaing to get out a full sentence. He walked out of the cafe and towards the Impala, weaving from side to side slightly, despite the fact he was concentrating hard on staying in a straight line. His head was beginning to ache.

_Jeez, am I drunk or something?_

He couldn't remember drinking anything, and there was no way he could have got this drunk in a cafe. The last thing he remembered was Alica... _Alica... _it was such a beautiful name, and it suited her perfectly. She was perfect. He realized that he was standing before the Impala, and quickly got in. He pulled away from the curb, his head beginning to throb painfully as he went. He found that he had to stare hard at the road in order to stay on course and not crash into someone else.

_What's wrong with me?_

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Sam jerked to his feet as the rumble of the Impala's engine reached his ears. He stood motionless, listening, until he heard Dean's boots on the ground outside, heard the key in the lock. Then he lurched forwards and hauled the door open, his mouth opening in a yell of fury.

"Where the _hell_ have you _been?_ I've been waiting for two bloody hours, Jesus, I was beginning to think that you'd crashed or something, you could have at least called..."

His voice trailed off as Dean stared up at him with unfocused eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly, swaying from side to side as he gazed at Sam. Abruptly, his legs buckled and Sam leapt forwards to grab him before he could fall.

"Jesus, what the... Dean? Dean say something."

Sam dragged him inside and practically carried him to one of the chairs. He sat him down and began to look his brother over for injuries. Slowly, he began to stop. He couldn't see any blood, no bruises, no nothing. He looked up into Dean's vacant face and shook him slightly.

"Dean? Dean!"

"Alica," Dean whispered, his eyes gazing blankly up at the corner. "Alica..."

"Who? Dean, you're freaking me out now. Tell me what the hell is going on."

"She's so beautiful..."

"Dean, if this is some sort of lame joke to try and keep me from leaving its crap, okay? Snap out of it, now!"

Dean just stared at him, looking as if he were a lost little boy again. "What?"

Sam shook him again, his heart still pounding. "Dean!"

"What!?" Dean yelled back, pulling free. "What's wrong?"

"You couldn't even hear me, could you? Where have you been?"

Dean shook his head. "There was this... this girl..."

"Alica?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Alica..."

Sam, sensing that he was drifting away again, snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Hey! Come back, Dean, stop it!"

"I don't... there's nothing..."

Sam rose to his feet. "A girl?" he repeated, going back over what Dean had just said. "What did she look like?"

"She had this long hair, like moonlight... pale skin... green eyes... beautiful."

Sam swallowed hard. He was done with hunting, he had just sworn it. But... he turned away and collected the records Dean had taken. He went through them, and then took the journal from Dean's pocket and flipped through that too. Then, slowly, he returned to Dean and crouched down before him.

"Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean looked up, focusing on him. Sam touched his arm to make sure that he was getting through to him.

"Dean," he repeated. "I know what we're dealing with. And I think you've just become its next victim."

**You know me now, if you like it put down a review and I'll put up the next chapter.**

**Yours, SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	3. Trapped

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns.**

"Dude, you're kidding me right?"

Sam looked up at his brother, who seemed to have finally snapped out of his daze and was looking at him with a skeptical expression plastered over his face. Sam sighed.

"Look, its right here in Dad's journal, Dean."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, but come on, man! I mean... _Sirens?"_

Sam lowered the journal, shot Dean a withering look. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Fine, fine, just read the damned thing out."

Sam looked down at the journal again and began to read, his voice toneless.

"Sirens are mentioned in mythology down through Greek history. They are often portrayed as beautiful women whose nature changes abruptly when angered."

"Oh, joy," Dean muttered.

Sam shot him a glare without pausing. "Sirens are often associated with the negative aspects of water spirits, or wood spirits. Sometimes they are depicted as bird women and at other times as sea nymphs. Traditionally they are women who sang and played music so sweet and enticingly that it lured mariners to destruction on the rocks surrounding their island. Alternatively, the songs would lull them to sleep when they could then be killed easily. "

Sam sneaked a glance at Dean, who hadn't made any sort of remark. His brother's eyes had narrowed. Feeling a small rush of triumph, Sam continued.

"Sirens hold the knowledge of enchantment and allurement, and although they were often depicted as ugly in appearance, the song that came forth from them made them beautiful, and impossible to resist." He put down the book and folded his arms. "Sound familiar?"

Dean scowled. "You're not serious."

Sam tossed the journal to Dean. "Fine, you read it. If you don't believe me, believe Dad."

He strode across the room to the window and looked out as Dean read. This wasn't hunting, he told himself firmly. And he would have no part in anything else that happened. He just wanted to get away from everything... maybe go back to school somehow... meet up with his old friends...

"Okay, fine," Dean snapped from behind him. "So maybe these Sirens could be real. How the hell do we kill them?"

"You're just gonna have to find out," Sam replied, turning to look at him. "I told you, Dean. I'm through with hunting."

Dean looked at Sam, one hand massaging his temples as if he had a bad headache. Sam bit back concerned questions, wondering if Dean was putting it on for pity.

"Well, yeah, but come on Sam. Just help me out with this one last thing and-"

"Dean! You're not hearing me." Sam moved across to stand in front of Dean, glaring into his brother's eyes. "I'm _through. _I'm sorry, but for now on you're on your own. I can't take any more of this."

For a few moments Dean held his gaze. Then he looked away, his shoulders heaving in a silent sigh. "Allright," he said softly. "Okay. Well then, I guess I'm going to the library." He checked his watch, and then added, "Tomorrow."

Sam nodded and turned away, moving to retrieve his mobile. He scrolled down to the list of his old colleage friends and then began to text them. If he was going to go back to colleage, maybe they could help him out. He glanced breifly at Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose and wincing. _I'll make sure he's okay, _he told himself. _Then I'm going._

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

God, his head hurt. If this was how Sam felt every time he had a vision, Dean had a new respect for him. He winced as his head seared again and leant his elbow on his knee, keeping his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose as if somehow that would make him feel better.

_God, what the hell did I do to deserve this?_

He knew that he was in trouble. If Sam was right and Alica really was a Siren, that meant that she was targeting him. There was no other explanation for the two and a half hours at the cafe he had missed, or the sweet singing that had filled his mind. So now he had to work out how to kill her, before she killed him...

_No. NO._

He couldn't kill her. How could he? How could he kill something so beautiful, something so amazing... oh god. He was so screwed.

He looked up at Sam. He knew he should say something, but now he had no idea how Sam would react. His brother wanted to leave him, run back to colleage. Maybe the red eyed demons had broken him beyond repair. But... _I can't do this alone. _Dean looked away from his brother. He would just have to learn to deal with the Siren alone. He had killed thousands of Supernatural beings in his life; he could handle this one.

Dean groaned.

He was _really _bad at lying to himself.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

_"Hey, Sam! Can't tell you how great it was to hear from you. We're all so glad you've decided to come back to colleage, it really is the right thing to do. We're all up for meeting you at the station, since you said your brother probably wouldn't want to drive you. I know there's a plane heading from where you are at about sevenish. How 'bout it? Call me back. Rebecca."_

Sam lowered his mobile and swallowed hard. Then he played the message again.

_"Hey, Sam! Can't-"_

Sam snapped his mobile shut and tossed it onto his duvet. This evening. That was just so soon... but he had wanted to leave, hadn't he? He looked down at his duffel bag. He could have it packed within moments: he and Dean were always ready to go. He glanced at his watch. Dean had left for the library about an hour ago. Since his encounter with Alica the night before, he had been strangely quiet and distant. Sam didn't doubt him in his ability to destroy the Siren alone, but he was still starting to feel worried. Girls never had this kind of effect on Dean, supernatural or not.

He stood up and reached for his jacket. If he was going to leave tomorrow, he would need to buy a ticket. Dean would probably have finished his hunt by tomorrow anyway: if he already knew who the Siren was, there was nothing to stand in his way.

Sam glanced around as he stepped out of the motel room. He would phone Dean after he had bought his ticket, just to make sure he was okay. Then he would start packing.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Dean narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the old, leatherbound book in front of him. Sam must be right: there were stories of Sirens from this town practically dating right back to the dark ages. In fact, the beach had once been fiercly avoided by fishermen because of the tales of the Sirens. And all of the victims had been doing something at the beach when they had vanished, apart from one.

_So, once people stopped fishing around there people forgot about them, _Dean thought. _But why did they come back? And on land too..._

Something was niggling at the corner of his mind, something he had seen not long ago. He looked up as the librarian - a young woman who had been hanging around him for no apparent reason - walked slowly past him for the millionth time.

"Excuse me? Jane, is it?"

She whirled around and rushed over to him, grinning. "Yeah, honey? Any way I can help?"

"You guys have all the newspapers here, don't you?"

She guided him over to the computers that were neatly set up along one wall. Her long, well-manicured fingernails tapped something into the search bar and a website came up. She gestured to it grandly, smiling at him.

"Just type in the date that you want, and it'll come up. You want me to show you?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I can do it. Thanks, Jane."

She looked a little put out, but left him to it. He knew that he had missed his chance, but he didn't care anymore. Since he had seen Alica, he hadn't noticed any girls at all. It was as if she were the only thig left in his mind, dominating everything...

He typed in the name of the beach and hit _Search. _The first thing that came up grabbed his attention, and he clicked on it. He scanned the article. A man had drowned after taking his dingy out into the sea at the beach. And it had happened just a week before the first victim had vanished.

_So, the Sirens got woken up by this guy and then decided to have some more fun. And since there was no one coming out anymore, they decided to come inland... great... and, they're coming closer too, right up to the park where she snagged Ian._

He was sure by now. Ryan had worked at the beach, the first and easiest victim for a Siren coming on land for the first time to enchant. Then there had been Peter, meeting his _girlfriend, _and Ian, and then Melissa at a party... but she was a girl. She didn't fit the pattern.

Unless...

A memory floated into his mind, a memory of a cold, hard face and glittering green eyes and bronzed hair. A second Siren.

A _male _Siren.

The man who had gone into the police station to talk to Lucy, the pretty secretary who had given him her number. And so she was in trouble... and she was where he could start. Dean returned to the old book he had been studying, pulling out his mobile as he went. He was aware that Jane was watching him go, but for once he couldn't care.

Alica was still hovering over him like a beautiful storm cloud.

He still had Lucy's number scrawled on the post-it she had given him. He dialed it quickly and listened to the endless ringing as he stared down at the book before him. He still had to find a way to defeat Sirens before he went after them...

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Lucy!" Dean glanced at Jane, who was frowning, and quickly lowered his voice. "Its me, Dean. The officer?"

"Oh, yeah." Her voice was confused, distracted. "What is it? Was there some kind of problem with the records?"

"No, no," Dean replied. "Actually I was wondering if you were seeing anyone at the moment."

The words were dead on his tongue. It was embarresing, how bad he had become at asking people out. God, this Siren's affects better wear off soon.

"Um, yeah," Lucy was saying. "Actually, I am. So..."

"That guy? The one with the brown hair?"

"His hair is more than just brown."

"Sure." Dean bit his lip. "So, uh, when are you seeing him?"

He was worried that Lucy would be freaked out, but she replied eagerly, pride clear in her voice.

"We're meeting in the park this evening. He was talking about walking through the woods, he's sooo romantic..."

"Yeah, okay," Dean muttered, feeling slightly stung. "Well, maybe I'll catch you another time."

"Yeah, sure." She was barely even listening.

Dean hung up, biting his lip. So, if they were meeting up this evening he was going to be pressed for time. He would have to find out how to kill these monsters fast.

_I can't kill her..._

He pushed the thought away. Maybe if he didn't think about it, it wouldn't be true when the time came. He bent over the book again, flipping through the pages. _Just tell me how to kill the damned things..._

But, no matter how long he searched, he could find nothing that explained how to kill a Siren. All he could find were legends of how people used to plug their ears with beeswax so that they wouldn't hear the Siren's song. Dean let out a groan of fustration and closed the book. Well, Siren's couldn't sing if they were in pieces, right? So he would have to just go for decapitation... joy...

He started as his mobile rang and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

Sam. Dean rose to his feet and headed for the door. "What's up, Sam? You changed your mind?"

"Actually, Dean, I was just calling to tell you that there's a plane heading towards my colleage tonight. And I was going to get on it."

Dean froze halfway out of the door, his eyes widening. "What... tonight?"

"Yeah."

Dean swallowed hard. "Oh," was all he could manage.

He could hear Sam's steady breathing on the other end of the line. He wet his lips, trying to think of something to say. For the first time in his life, he couldn't think of anything.

"How's the hunt going?" Sam asked after a few moments.

"Good," Dean replied. "I'm, ah, I was gonna go for it tonight actually. I think I know what I'm after."

"Oh, great."

Sam sounded relieved. Dean wondered for a moment if Sam knew what was going on in his head. Either way, it looked like was going in after the Sirens alone.

Abruptly, a small, pale hand came down on his arm and he turned, frowning.

"Hey, Dean," Alica murmured.

Dean gazed at her. "Sam... I'll call you back," he mumbled, lowering the mobile.

"Where did you go, Dean?" Alica asked softly, leaning towards him. A shudder ran through Dean's body, but he couldn't pull away. "I've missed you."

"I... I..."

"I heard you just then. You're going out tonight?"

"Uh..."

"Cancel your plans. I want you to meet up with me."

"Y-You?"

"At the beach. Tonight."

She moved closer, slipping her fingers through his. He wasn't even breathing anymore, he was drowning in her eyes... maybe this was how the saliors had died all those years ago, drowning in a Siren's eyes, melting into nothing.

"So? You're coming?"

Dean couldn't speak. He couldn't think. All he could see was her.

"Yes," he whispered.

**If you like it tell me and I'll update. No reviews and I'll just give up ;). Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Yours, SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	4. Capture

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns.**

Sam looked up from his bag as Dean appeared in the doorway. His brother's eyes flickered to his almost-filled bag, and then back to Sam's face. Sam could almost see the words _'so its true' _flickering across Dean's head before Dean turned away and strode over to his own bag. He pulled it open and began to sift through it.

"You okay?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean grunted.

Sam sighed and turned back to his bag. He wasn't going to let himself feel guilty for leaving, but he was still feeling a little worried about Dean. But then, Dean seemed to be more like himself today. Sam zipped his bag shut and glanced at his watch. He would leave for the airport in about an hour and a half.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Humph."

"Call me when you finish this thing, okay?"

Dean looked up, his eyes narrowing. "You think I can't handle it?"

"No, course not. Its just... you know." Sam shrugged awkwardly.

Dean pulled a long, shining Machete from his bag and turned it over in his hands, studying it critcially.

"You know how to kill them, then," Sam said.

Dean shrugged. "I don't really have any other choice."

Sam paused, unsure if that should worry him. "Well, just call me, okay?"

Dean nodded, not even glancing at him. Sam sighed.

"Okay," he said softly. "Thanks."

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Dean was so, so screwed.

He looked down at his watch, biting his lip. Sam was going to leave any moment now, and Dean still hadn't spat out the fact that he was terrified, and that he really needed help on this hunt.

And he knew that he wasn't going to.

He had just finished wiping down his machete when Sam rose to his feet, hefting his duffel on one shoulder.

"Okay, Dean. I'm gonna..."

Dean stood up, his grip tightening on the machete. "I'll give you a lift," he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. Sam nodded. Dean sheathed the weapon and headed for the door. They drove to the airport in complete silence. When Dean stopped the car outside it, Sam didn't move.

"Dean... I'm not deserting you."

"Yeah."

"I just... I can't do this, Dean. I mean, haven't we sacrificed enough for this damned obsession?"

"Maybe."

Sam fell silent. Dean closed his eyes. _Ask him now. Tell him now! You can't do this on your own and you know it..._

"Okay."

"Okay."

Sam opened his door and got out of the car. Dean opened his eyes and watched him slam the door shut. Sam leant down onto the door, his puppy dog eyes shining.

"Promise me you'll call, Dean."

"What are you, my girlfriend?"

Sam didn't smile.

"I'll call," Dean said at last. "Give me a few hours, okay?"

Sam nodded and stepped back from the car. Dean pulled away from the curb, glancing at Sam in his rear-view mirror as he went. Lucy would be meeting the Siren in a few minutes. And he should be meeting Alica... he tightened his grip on the steering wheel and turned towards the park.

When he reached it, he couldn't see any other cars. Maybe Lucy and her new boyfriend hadn't arrived yet. Dean pushed his way out of the car, grabbing his Machete from the back seat on the way out. If he could just manage to kill the male Siren - which shouldn't be too hard since, last time he checked, he wasn't gay - then maybe he could kill Alica too.

As if.

Dean made his way into the park and looked around. No one was around. He walked over to a darker corner and leant against the fence, rolling the handle of his machete between his fingers. A cold breeze tore at his skin and he supressed a shiver. He shouldn't have let Sam go. He should have argued more, _made _him stay. Dean sighed and tilted his head back to look at the sky. For once there were no storm clouds. Maybe it wouldn't rain. Dean shook himself, scowling. How could he be thinking about the weather when-

A loud _clang _from the other side of the park made him look up. Lucy and the Siren had just stepped through the gates, and he hadn't even noticed. He moved quickly to the slide and crouched down behind it, watching them through the rungs of the ladder. He would have to wait until they came closer so that he could take them by surprise. Silently, he drew the Machete from its sheath and laid the sheath on the floor. He laid his free hand flat on the blade, keeping his eyes on the Siren. This wasn't as hard as he had thought - his mind had already switched to hunting mode.

The Siren was holding Lucy's hand, and she was gazing up at him adoringly as he led her across the park. It was going to be hard to kill him with her around... Dean hesitated, his eyes narrowing. The two were heading towards the woods...

_Oh, crap._

_"He was talking about walking through the woods... he's soooo romantic..."_

And if they were heading for the woods, they would never come near him. And he would miss his chance. Dean swore under his breath, watching helpless as the two vanished into the dark trees. He would just have to follow them. He rose to his feet and strode quickly after them, slipping into the darkness of the forest.

Unseen debris crackled and rustled beneath Dean's boots as he crept silently forwards, bent over slightly in a crouch. He kept the machete clutched firmly in his good hand, ready for any unwelcome surprises, but it quickly became clear that he was losing them. He could hardly see their shadows now: the Siren and his victim were slipping further and further away. Curing softly, Dean hefted the machete and ran forwards a few more steps. Then he stopped short, ears straining. He couldn't see anyone, or hear any walking.

He'd lost them.

_Crap._

Dean straightened up, fighting down a small flare of relief. He wouldn't have to kill any of Alica's friends... he shook himself and strode forwards, not caring if he made noise or not anymore. He wasn't about to sacrifice Lucy for his own selfish weaknesses. He would just have to search for them until he found them, and then somehow drag Lucy away and kill the Siren. If Lucy still thought the world of the monster she might fight him, try to stop him, and then end up getting hurt. But he couldn't think of anyway to get her out of harms way without losing the Siren and-

He stopped short as muffled voices reached his ears. He stood rigid for a few moments, and then began to walk towards them, keeping the machete before him. If it was just some old lady out for a walk he was going to look like such a doofus... it had _better _be the damned Siren this time...

Dean froze as the soft, bubbling sound of Lucy's laughter rolled over him. _Okay, that rules out the old lady. _He inched forwards, moving from tree to tree to keep himself hidden. He caught a flash of colour and pulled back behind a tree, holding his breath, but after a few moments it became clear that no one had seen him. Slowly, he leant out from behind the tree. Just in front of him was a small clearing, a large, decaying log lying over on the other side. In the centre of the clearing, Lucy was gazing up into the Siren's green eyes, her lips parted in wonder, her face practically shining. Dean watched as the Siren bent his head to hers, trailing a finger down over her lips. He murmured something in her ear, and heat flashed across her face.

So it didn't matter if he were gay or not, Dean thought coldly as his grip slackened on the machete. He would still find the Sirens beautiful, enchanting...

_Kill it!_

The two words tore through his head like blades of ice, jerking him back into reality. If he hadn't known better, he would have said that it was his father's ghost beating some sense back into him. Dean clenched his jaw and lifted the machete again, planning his maneuver. He just needed to wait for the right moment to strike, a point where they could both be caught unaware.

The Siren tilted Lucy's chin upwards with two pale fingers, leaning closer. Lucy's eyes fluttered closed as he bent forwards and...

And the Siren became a monster.

His skin blurred from snow white to ash grey, spiderwebbed blue veins standing out on the thin, almost translucent surface. His eyes turned acid yellow, resembling a bird's eyes, and his mouth opened inhumanly wide to reveal jagged, needle-sharp teeth and a black tongue. His bronze hair lengthened to ten times its original length and turned silver, like Alica's but more metallic. His skin seemed to suck in so that it clung to the bone, clearly displaying his cheekbones and forehead. A low hiss writhed upwards through his throat, sending a shudder down Dean's spine.

_Okay, now I can kill it._

He launched himself into the clearing, grabbing Lucy by the arm and dragging her backwards. She let out a short gasp, and then a piercing scream as her eyes flew open and she caught sight of the Siren. Dean felt her muscles tense in fear, and gave her a hard shove towards the park.

"Run, Lucy!" he yelled, shoving her again. "Go. Go!"

She blinked, his words shocking her into action, and stumbled away.

Dean spun to face the Siren, whose silver hair was flying out around his face as he snarled in fury.

"That," he said coldly, "Was mine."

"_She,_" Dean corrected, "Really isn't your type." He lifted his machete. "I think you'd feel much better with this stuck in your mouth."

The Siren's lips curled in a smirk. "I don't think so. You can't touch me."

"Oh yeah?" Dean challenged, stepping forwards threateningly. "I think I can."

The Siren at something behind Dean. "Try telling her that."

Dean's heart sank, but he couldn't stop himself from turning around. Alica was standing at the edge of the clearing, a small, sly smile flickering around her mouth.

"Hi, Dean," she said softly. "I see you've met my brother. He's not as cranky as he looks."

Dean swung the machete upwards, clenching both fists over the handle, his teeth gritting together. Alica laughed, the sound of ice tumbling over glass.

"Come on, you can't harm me," she said confidently, walking over to him. Abruptly, her tone turned serious and her eyes narrowed. "I love you, Dean," she said quietly, linking her arms around his neck. "I love you. I can make all of your dreams come true. I am everything you have ever wanted, and everything you will ever need."

Her words spun a web around him, holding him in place. His grip slackened on the machete, and it slipped from his fingers. He hardly heard it drop to the ground. All he could see was Alica, her amazing emerald eyes, her pure skin, her beautiful red lips. She leant closer to him and let out a small sigh.

Someone grabbed him by his jacket and dragged him backwards, launching him upwards into the air. Dean let out a sharp cry of pain as he smashed into the decaying log, the wood splintering around him. He rolled onto his back, ready to surge up to his feet and fight back, but found that Alica's face was just inches from his own. He could dimly hear the male Siren laughing on the other side of the clearing, a low, provocative sound.

"You know you can't resist me, Dean," she whispered, her breath icy gusts on his face. "And you know how much you want me." She placed one hand on his shoulder, her grip firm, so that he couldn't try to get up. "I can be your world, Dean," she murmured, bending her head so that her lips were beside his ear and her silky hair was falling over his skin. "And I know that, deep down, you really do want to end everything now. You have nothing left... but me."

And, without any kind of warning, the song was back. It curled through the air and twisted into his ears, blocking out every other sound. Dean felt his body slowly relaxing of its own accord, felt his eyes growing heavy as Alica bent closer to him. The sweet, mournful singing broke down the walls he had put up around his emotions, stripped him away until his soul was left vulnerable and naked. While he could still think clearly, he fought out one final desperate attempt at survival.

"Sam," he whispered. "Sam..."

Alica raised her voice, as if angered by the interruption, and Dean felt his last ounce of strength falling away from him. A shudder ran over his body as his eyes rolled back into his head and darkness took him. Alica let his limp form drop to the floor, her skin turning grey, her hair flaring, and sat back on her heels.

"Lets go somewhere a little more homely, shall we?" she said quietly.

**If you like it put down a review and I'll put up the next chapter.**

**Yours, SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	5. Singing

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns.**

**Plus, sorry about the last chapter, I know it was a repeat of the other one. I forgot to delete the document and got confused. Thanks to Ster1 for pointing it out for me! Anyway, here's the next chapter.**

Sam looked up at the screen showing different flights. His flight was leaving in the next ten minutes, and he still hadn't gone to the gate to board yet. Because Dean hadn't called...

He swallowed hard and checked his message inbox on his mobile again. Three words flashed across the screen: _No new messages. No new messages. _Sam blew out through his nose and clenched his hand over the mobile, tapping one foot insistently. Dean had had more than enough time to kill the Siren by now. He should have called.

_Something's wrong..._

The back of Sam's neck prickled as every hair stood on end. He was certain that he was right, that Dean was in trouble somehow. In trouble alone... guilt peirced his gut and he stood up quickly, reaching for his duffel bag. He had to find Dean, help him... how long had it been? An hour? Two? An image flashed into his head of his brother lying in some cold, dark place, bleeding, defenceless... it wasn't a vision, but it was enough. Sam span around and strode towards the exit, but then stopped.

He had just given up this life of hunting and fear. He was about to leave it all behind and start afresh, and he was going to go back because Dean hadn't called him? His brother could have just forgotten or something, or still be busy and perfectly fine. Sam could just be overreacting.

But if he wasn't... if Dean really was in trouble...

_I can't get away from hunting._

The thought hit him as a truck hits a rabbit on the highway, leaving him dazed and blank. And it was true; once you became a hunter, you were always a hunter. He had tried to run from it before, and sucked Jessica into his insane life. Running away from it would never get him anywhere... because there was no way out. He stared down at the floor, the duffel hanging from one hand. So that was it. He was stuck in this crap life for good. He would never have anything...

_I have Dean._

Yes, he had Dean. And he wasn't about to lose him.

Clenching his jaw, Sam hefted the duffel bag onto his shoulder and strode towards the door. Even if Dean wasn't in trouble, the time would come when he was and he was alone because of Sam's selfishness. Dean had always looked out for him. Now Sam had to look out for Dean.

He lifted the mobile to his ear as he reached the doors of the airport, dialing Dean's mobile. His brother's answering machine came on, and Sam fought down a surge of despair.

"I'm coming back, Dean," he said after the beep. "Don't worry. I'm coming back."

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Dean could smell salt on the breeze that whipped over him, and was dimly aware of something hard pressing against his ribs. He opened his eyes blearily, the world around him wavering and difting in and out of focus. He winced as his head throbbed and squeezed his eyes shut, counting to five before opening them again. He could see a little clearer now, but was quickly realizing that he was having trouble focusing because it was so dark. He reached out a hand and hard rock tore at his knuckles, only a few inches from his face. He ran his hand down, realizing that he was lying against a rocky, irregular wall.

_What happened? Where's Sam?_

Oh, yeah. Sam was heading back to Stanford, probably there by now... Dean rolled over onto his back, hissing softly as his head seared painfully. The rock beneath him was slimy and cold, sharp rocks sticking up every so often to dig into his back and sides. He tried to sit up, but his head span. He put out a hand to support himself, and his palm skidded backwards on something wet. He fell backwards, jarring his shoulder, and let out a small cry of pain.

_Okay, okay, take it slower..._

He took a few deep breaths to clear away the black dots dancing before his eyes, and then pushed himself upright again. He looked down at the thing he had slipped on, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. Seaweed? What the...? Dean reached out to grab the rocky wall beside him and heaved himself up to his feet. He stumbled slightly and managed to regain his balance before he plunged straight back down to the ground again.

He looked around, squinting in the dim hope that it would help him to see in the thick darkness. _I need a flashlight... _an idea struck him and he felt in his pocket for his mobile. He pulled it out and pressed a random button, allowing the screen to light up. Light pooled out around him, illuminating a dull grey rock floor dotted with murky puddles and straggly seaweed. And a skull...

Dean flinched back, automatically reaching for his gun. He realized two things simultaneously: a) that there was no threat to his life right now since the skull wasn't about to attack him and b) that his gun was gone. Dean swore softly as he lowered his hand and looked around for some sort of other weapon. Nothing but rocks... well, rocks were better than nothing. He bent down and scooped one up before approaching the skull, holding his mobile up so that its light fell across the rest of the skeleton. Its bones were yellowed and supporting winding seaweed and algae.

_Great, so I'm sharing this hole with some dead guy._

Dean turned away, deciding to forget about the skeleton and find a way out. The back of his neck was prickling, and he was certain that something was wrong. He couldn't even remember what had happened, how he had got here... _Siren. _The word ripped into his head, stopping him in his tracks. He had tracked them down, and they must have caught him. But why bring him here? Why not just kill him?

Unless they didn't kill their victims instantly. Unless, like vampires, they kept their victims captive draining them of... of what? Sirens didn't drink blood, he was certain of that. So what _did _they eat? What did they gain from dragging people down into the sea with them...

The sea. He was near the sea. He could smell the salt, and now that he was listening he could hear the waves roaring somewhere close. He must be at the beach, where the other victims had vanished. And, as he seemed to be in some sort of cave, he must be somewhere in the rocks which stretched out into the ocean halfway down the beach. Perfect... well, at least he knew where he was. Or thought he knew where he was.

Dean began to walk forwards, pressing another random button on his mobile when its light began to go out. There had to be some way out: if they could get him in, he could get himself out. The glare fell across something pale, and he stepped forwards hopefully. And froze.

There on the floor, dried blood covering his nose and mouth, was the pale, bluing body of Ryan Peterson. His blank, staring eyes gazed straight up at the ceiling, his mouth hanging open slightly, his clothes ripped and drenched. As Dean stared at the corpse, a white, thin worm slid out over Ryan's lips and a large, spidery crab scuttled over his shoulder. Dean felt a rush of nausea and stepped back, clenching his jaw to hold back a shudder of disgust. His heel nudged against something smooth that rolled away slightly and he turned, already knowing what he was about to see. Sure enough, Melissa's clear blue eyes gazed up at him, pleading even in death, as if she had spent her last moments praying for help. Blood was on her top lip and chin, like Ryan. He lifted his mobile, its glare catching the dim outlines of two more corpses and another skeleton. The remains of Ian, Peter and another unknown victim, possibly from centuries ago.

Dean swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat and moved away from the corpses, tightening his grip on the rock he had adopted as a weapon. _Jesus, these things are disgusting... There is no way I'm joining those poor bastards down here..._

A sudden wave of weakness rolled over him, and darkness blotted out his vision. He felt the rocky floor against his hands and knees, his right palm resting in an icy puddle, but he still couldn't see anything. He let out a gasp as his stomach jerked sickeningly, and then retched. The contents of his stomach crawled up his throat and threw themselves out over his lips. The next thing he knew he was lying on his side on the cold rock, huge shivers raking over him, his whole body left weak and aching.

He tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled and he was forced to let himself down again, letting out a soft moan. _Must be the Siren... _He wouldn't have suffered this kind of reaction just because of a few corpses staring at him. He'd seen too many of them in his lifetime already. Dean winced as pain rolled over him in a thick wave. _What the hell did the bitch do..._

"I see you've had enough beauty sleep. But I should probably tell you that you look like... well, like them."

Dean forced his eyes open to see Alica standing over him. She had reverted back to her human form, her long, silvery hair tumbling over her shoulders. Her green eyes glittered like jewls as she looked down at him, her lips curling into a cruel smile.

"You know," she said softly, crouching down beside him, "I think you're the most handsome out of the lot. I mean, Calec has only had one or two and he prefers girls anyway, but none of them were anywhere near as pretty as you are."

Dean managed to scowl. He didn't like being called 'pretty.' He spat out the last of the bile lying on his tongue and managed to spit out a few words with it.

"W-who the hell is C-Calec?"

"My brother. My only family left - the rest of our colony has died out by now."

Dean swallowed hard, still trying to clear his mouth enough. "Wh-what are yer gonna do?"

"To you?"

His stomach twisted and Dean clenched his jaw, nodding instead of speaking.

"I guess I could tell you, since you did so well when you were traking Calec down. You are a hunter, right?"

Dean grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as pain speared into his chest. Alica laughed quietly and put a hand on the side of his head, her fingers slipping through his shot hair.

"We haven't seen someone like you for years. They started following us around a few hundered years ago, gave up when we fell back a little. Hunters are just so easy to trick - once their hunt vanishes they think its gone for good."

She paused, but Dean's voice wasn't working. He settled for glaring at her, pulling as much hate as he could into his eyes. She snorted and continued.

"Basically, we don't want to eat you. We don't want to suck your blood. We just want you to suffer." Her eyes glittered as she relished the last word, rolling it on her tongue like a favorite sweet.

"Y-your s-s-sick," Dean snarled, turning his face away from her. "Killing i-innocent p-people for no r-reason..."

"No reason?" Alica's eyebrows arched. "Your species is the dumbest, coldest most selfish race I have ever seen on the face of the Earth. You destroy everything you touch, you build your disgusting cities and towns all over the world and you will continue until there is nothing left. You have killed at least one of every animal in the world, including your own pathetic race." She leant forwards and he looked up at her, her eyes almost as cold as his. "You know," she said quietly, "There was once a time when these oceans were sparkling and clear. The most beautiful things in the world. And now... filled with your waste, your pollution, they are reduced to nothing." Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you think we want you to suffer?"

Dean closed his eyes as another wave of sickness rolled over him. He retched, but had nothing left to bring up considering the fact that he had hardly eaten anything that day. Alica grinned down at him.

"In a way, we're doing you a favour," she murmured, leaning closer to whisper in his ear like she had done in the clearing. "You'd just kill each other anyway... there's nothing your kind likes more than blood and war. And," she added as an afterthought, "Its fun. Watching the light go out in your eyes. Watching you float away into the darkness. What more could we want?"

"You d-don't know J-Jack ab-bout us."

"Oh, I think we do." She sat back on her heels, stretching. "Well, Calec's gone out to look for something else for himself, since you stole his girl. We've got some time alone. Why don't w-"

She cut off with a sharp gasp as Dean jerked his hand upwards and slammed his rock into the side of her head. She fell backwards and Dean scrambled away from her. He grabbed the wall and dragged himself up to his feet, stumbling away into the darkness, only vaugely aware that he had left his mobile behind him. A furious hiss echoed through the cave behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of glittering green eyes and ashen skin. So Alica was back in Siren-mode. Dean's head spun aburptly and he stumbled, almost falling to the floor.

_Gotta get out. Gotta get out._

But he didn't know the way out. He didn't even know where the hell he was.

"The sea's coming in soon, Dean," Alica called from somewhere behind him. "This whole place'll be filled with water. You can't get out."

She cocked her head, listening. She could hear the hunter's rasping breathing, his faltering footsteps. He wouldn't last long. Sirens were poison to humans, even one kiss left the feeble animals weak and shivery. This Dean would never be able to get away from her. Besides, this was her world.

He had no chance.

**Hope you enjoyed it, review if you like and I'll put up the next chapter!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	6. Hope

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns.**

**Also, as a note, all chapters are now in the correct order. Thanks again to Ster1.**

Dean wasn't at the motel, although his bag was still dumped on the floor by the bed and his belongings were still strewn over the ruffled duvet, just like they had been when Sam had left. Sam dropped his own bag onto his own bed. He had known that Dean wasn't there before he had walked in through the door: the Impala wasn't parked outside. Sam hesitated, looking around the room for some clue to tell him where Dean had gone to start his hunt. Nothing.

_Should've asked him... I knew something was wrong and I still left him alone... stupid, selfish, pathetic..._

He sat down on his bed, pressing his fingers against his temples. If he were Dean, what would he have done? Well, that was easy enough: he'd have gone to the place where people had started vanishing, or worked out where the Sirens were taking people. The beach? But Dean had driven off in the wrong direction when he had dropped Sam off at the station earlier that day. But where else was there...

_The park._

It wasn't definate, but it was enough. And the park wasn't too far from here. Sam stood up but then stopped halfway to the door. He didn't know how to fight them... but Dean had had his machete with him. Sam dug into Dean's bag for their spare one and then headed for the door again, the lethal knife concealed beneath his jacket. He had to twist his arm awkwardly to hide all of the knife because it was so big, but he would prefer being uncomfortable than being questioned by policemen as to why he was carrying a dangerous weapon around with him.

It only took him a few minutes to walk to the park, and even less time before he caught sight of the Impala parked near the gates. His heart leaping hopefully, he quickened his pace and reached the car. He looked through the windows, but it was empty. Fighting down a surge of dissapointment, Sam straightened up and made his way into the park. He took a quick glance around, and then began to search more thouroughly. It wasn't long before he found the leather case for Dean's machete on the ground near the slide. He scooped it up and fingered it, his mouth turning dry. Dean wouldn't have just left it here for so long, not to mention the abandoned Impala. Sam looked around, weting his lips. So say if Dean had run into the Sirens and come off worse, why wasn't he here?

_They must have taken him..._

And taken him where? Sam's eyes narrowed. Where they must have taken all their victims. Where the legend of Sirens had first come from.

The sea. The beach.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

The salty sea water was up to Dean's knees.

When he had first splashed into the ankle-deep area he had tried to backtrack, but then realized that the cave was slowly but surely filling up with water. If he didn't get out soon, he was going to drown.

He staggered backwards as a large wave swept into the cave, driving the water up to his thighs. Its icy fingers curled around him and he shivered, letting out a short gasp. Without his mobile, he was blind. The pitch black pressed down on his eyes like a blindfold, not a single light peircing the darkness. He reached out his hands behind him, fumbling for something, anything, and felt the cave wall against his fingertips. He cringed back against it, grateful for something that would offer some support.

He knew he couldn't carry on like this for much longer. His legs were trembling wildly beneath him, threatening to give way on every other step. He could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest and at the ends of his fingers as panic sent his blood rushing around his body faster than normal. His head was aching, occasionally throbbing with stabs of pain.

_I'm going to die..._

He pushed the thought away. He could get through this. He had got out of worse situations before. But Sam had always been with him, his backup, his defence, his final resort when things got really bad, like now. Sam would have known what to do. He would have come out with some geekish remark that would save them, like the direction of the waves or something...

_Direction of the waves..._

Dean felt another wave rush up against him, but this time paid as much attention as he could instead of trying to block it out. It brought the water level up to his waist, but he didn't care. The wave had come for his left, and if the tide was coming in that meant it had to be coming in from somewhere over there. Which meant that there was a way out.

He forced his stiff, frozen, numbing limbs into motion and began to fight his way through the water. A tinkling laugh rang out in the cave and he glanced around, but couldn't see Alica anywhere. She must be in the water somewhere. He shuddered: he didn't like the idea of her swimming around him unseen.

Dean's legs abruptly gave out a little, forcing him to grab the wall to keep himself above the water line. He regained his footing and took a few moments break, breathing hard, fixing his eyes on a random point in the darkness. His thundering heart seemed to be screaming at him: _Ba-bum, da-dum, ba-bum, da-dum, you-can't get-out, you-can't get-out, you-can't get-out... _He shook his head to clear it and pushed himself upright, pressing on again. Another wave crashed into him, sending salty spray into his face, and the water rose to his chest.

_No, no, no, no, no..._

He was screwed. A few more minutes and the water would be over his head. He couldn't see anything, and there was no way out.

And then, as if whatever gods there were had finally smiled down on him, he felt hard rock against his finger tips and as he moved his hand downwards... an opening.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Sam counted himself lucky that he had forgotten to take his own key to the Impala out of his pocket and give it to Dean before leaving for Stanford. Otherise he would have had to break into the car, and Dean would be furious if his baby had been damaged in any way.

He reached the beach and parked the Impala as close as he could to the sand. Thankfully, there were no people holding late-night parties tonight. As he got out of the car, he tried Dean's mobile again. Nothing but voicemail. Cursing under his breath, Sam made his way out onto the sand and paused, looking around. He couldn't see anyone. He unsheathed the machete and held it ready as he began to walk carefully down the beach, towards the rocks that stretched out into the sea about halfway down the sand.

What if Dean wasn't even here? He might be somewhere completely different. Sam had no proof that this was where the Sirens were, it was just him following his feelings. He stopped, sand dropping into his shoes as it shifted around him. He was probably completely overreacting. Dean was probably at the nearest bar toasting his latest hunt.

Sam ran his thumb along the blade, his shoulders heaving with a silent sigh as he turned to look at the sea. Maybe he should just... just go back to the motel. Dean would turn up at some point in the early morning, drunk and with some girl in tow. He would be just fine. He'd taken care of himself on hunts for years before dragging Sam back in. What was Sam even doing here? He should be in Stanford by now, meeting up with his old friends, getting his old life back. Sam swung the machete down to his side, lifting one hand to run his fingers through his hair. He turned to head back to the Impala, shoving away the last of the fear and concern that was hovering over him. And stopped.

A man had appeared on the beach, not far from him, near the rocks. He was walking towards Sam, clearly aiming for the small collection of shops beside the beach behind him. Sam hesitated, watching as he came closer. He was hauntingly beautiful, with bronze hair swept back from his face and pale, almost perfectly white flawless skin. His eyes were a striking clear green, and shone slightly like cats eyes in the dim light. But, despite his beauty, there was a strange coldness about him that made Sam's hand tighten on the machete as he hid the weapon behind his back.

"Hey," he called, taking a step forwards as the man drew closer. "I wonder if you could help me out."

The man glanced at him flippantly, and then started to push past. Sam caught his arm, holding him back.

"I'm looking for someone," he explained as the man looked down at his restaining hand. "My brother. He's about this high, short hair, likes girls, he was wearing jeans and a blue shirt. Ring any bells?"

"Get off me," the man snarled, pulling free.

"He was called Dean," Sam called as the man began to move away. "Dean Winchester. You sure you haven't seen him?"

The man stopped, and then slowly turned to look at him. "Dean?" he repeated, one eyebrow arching slowly. "And you're his brother?"

Warning bells went off in Sam's head, but he didn't move. He checked his grip on the machete which he was still hiding behind his back as he answered. "Yeah, I am. You've seen him?"

The man walked back to him, emerald eyes narrowing. "Maybe." His eyes flickered to Sam's shoulder. Sam glanced sideways and realized with a sharp jolt that the tip of the machete was showing over his shoulder. He pulled it back, and the man smirked.

"But I don't give information to hunters," he finished coldly.

His hand snaked out and grabbed Sam by his collar, jerking him forwards. At the same time, Sam swung the machete, aiming for the man's side. The weapon went straight through him, and the man melted into nothing. Sam stumbled with the momentum of his blow, and then turned, lifitng the machete.

_He's a Siren. And he's got Dean._

There was no other explaination for how the Siren had known he was a hunter. Sam turned slowly in a circle, keeping the machete in front of him. Behind him he heard a low hiss and turned sharply, jerking forwards with the machete. The Siren dodged the blow and grabbed his wrist, twisting it so that he was forced to let go of the weapon. It grabbed him by the jacket with its other hand and let out a growl. Sam watched in horrified wonder as the Siren's human disguise rippled and vanished to reveal its true appearance. Then he shook himself, pushing back into action.

"Where's my brother?" he demanded. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"He's my sister's kill," the Siren replied, its voice cold and dark as the sea in a storm. "He's not my concern. At least not when he's hunting me."

"Where is he?"

"Not here."

Sam's jaw clenched in anger and he brought his knee up sharply, burying it into the Siren's stomach. The Siren's grip weakened and he grabbed its shoulder. Instantly its skin dissolved into water, leaving it free to slip out of his grasp. He bit back a cry of surprise and leapt instead for the machete, but it grabbed him by the back of his jacket and dragged him backwards. It lifted him and threw him hard, and he came down in the sand a few meters away. He scrambled up to his knees, his shoulder aching where he had jarred it.

_Think! How is it vulnerable? How can I hurt it?_

His brain whirled through everything he knew about Sirens - not much - and came back with nothing. Sam gritted his teeth and launched himself at the Siren, swiping for it. His fingers breifly touched something solid before brushing over water again, and he frowned. The Siren's neck was solid...? Why? The ghost of an idea blew into his mind and he turned to face the Siren again, clenching his fists as it grinned at him to reveal small, pointed teeth.

"You won't find him," it taunted, stepping forwards. "Your brother's probably already dead."

Sam's stomach jerked and he reached into his jean pocket. He must have a spare, he always kept a spare these days in case of emergency...

"He's _not _dead!" he spat as he searched. "Your 'sister' doesn't stand a chance against him."

"Yeah, right. We're poison to you, by the way. He'll never survive."

"Just watch him."

Sam's hand closed around the tiny hilt of the small knife Dean had given him one year for his birthday. It was too small to do much, but enough to test his theory. He took a deep breath and then leapt forwards, pulling out the knife and swinging it at the Siren. The Siren let out a harsh scream as the blade scratched the side of its neck and pulled back. Sam grinned in triumph and turned. His eyes fell on his machete lying on the ground not far away. He raced over to it, scooped it up, and turned to face the Siren again before the monster had had time to recover. He sprinted forwards again and threw himself at the Siren, carrying them both to the floor.

The Siren struggled beneath him, but froze as he put the machete against its neck. Sam glared down at it, his grip on it firm.

"Now tell me," he said clearly, "Where my brother is."

The Siren stared at up at him in fear, morphing quickly back to its human form. Looking down at a terrified human face was harder to do, but Sam steeled himself and pressed down on the machete a little. The Siren let out a short yelp.

"Alright, okay, don't," it panted, its hands clenching in the sand.

Sam paused, his eyes narrowing. "Where's Dean?"

The Siren's eyes flickered towards the sea. "The caves, down beneath the rocks. The tide's flooded them by now, he's-"

It broke off in a gasp as Sam pressed down again.

"Okay, I told you, now let me go," it whispered, staring up at him. "I told you."

"Yeah, but I never said I was going to let you go," Sam replied softly.

Then, before the Siren could respond, he ripped the machete sideways across the Siren's neck. The Siren's mouth opened in a deafening scream of pain, blue-black blood rolling down over its neck. Sam pulled back as a strange, silvery smoke began to seep out from the wound, curling towards the sky.

_I guess that's how you kill a Siren... you cut off its song._

Sam flinched as the Siren's body jerked and then dissolved into water leaving nothing but a damp patch on the ground behind it. Sam rose to his feet, grabbing the machete again. He turned towards the rocks, breaking into a run.

"Okay, Dean," he whispered. "I'm coming."

**Will Sam get there in time? Review and I'll tell you in the next chapter! :)**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	7. Drowning

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns.**

In the last chapter...

_Dean was screwed. A few more minutes and the water would be over his head. He couldn't see anything, and there was no way out._

_And then, as if whatever gods there were had finally smiled down on him, he felt hard rock against his finger tips and as he moved his hand downwards... an opening._

Meanwhile...

_Before the Siren could respond, Sam ripped the machete sideways across the Siren's neck. The Siren's mouth opened in a deafening scream of pain, blue-black blood rolling down over its neck. Sam pulled back as a strange, silvery smoke began to seep out from the wound, curling towards the sky. Sam flinched as the Siren's body jerked and then dissolved into water leaving nothing but a damp patch on the ground behind it. Sam rose to his feet, grabbing the machete again. He turned towards the rocks, breaking into a run._

_"Okay, Dean," he whispered. "I'm coming."_

Now...

For a few moments, Dean just couldn't believe his luck. Then he forced himself into motion and ducked down through the small, round opening. Outside it was dark, but he could now see stars above him and a few lights on the shore far away to his right. A huge wave crashed against him almost as soon as he had cleared the hole, and threw him back against the rocks. Dean managed to suck in a tiny breath before he was pitched forwards into the water and the rocks beneath his feet vanished.

Salt rushed into his eyes, nose and mouth, making them sting sharply. Without thinking, Dean automatically swallowed a large gulp of sea water and choked, bubbles streaming from his open mouth. His heavy clothes dragged him downwards, a strong current pulling him back at the same time so that he ended up falling diagonally. His heart thundered in his chest and his lungs screamed for air as the water pressed down on him.

_Move! MOVE!_

The command leapt into his brain, pushing aside his panic. He looked towards the surface and began to kick, slowly clawing his way upwards. He was going to make it, he was going to be okay...

Icy hands grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him down, fingers digging right into his flesh. Dean let out a silent cry, and a new group of bubbles bloomed from his mouth. He twisted and looked down to see Alica behind him, her skin ashen, her silvery hair flowing around her face, her eyes a burning, acid, yellow, her teeth pointed. She grinned at him, and then sank downwards. The water seemed to move to help her, pressing him down, and he yelled in fustration and panic. He struggled against the Siren's grip, but she just tightened her hold and slipped up to kiss him hard, her lips freezing cold against his. He felt his own body go lax, felt weakness spreading over him again. His necklace slipped over his head and floated free, vanishing into the darkness, and he felt a jolt of fury.

_No, no way, I am not gonna die here..._

Dean feebly lashed out at her but his hand went straight through her body. She laughed, thousands of tiny bubbles rushing from her mouth.

_"I have to say, I'm impressed," _she told him, smirking. He blinked in surprise at the fact that he could hear her just as clearly as if she had been talking on land. Her voice barely even wavered. _"There's only ever been one other to find their way out of our caves. Of course, like you, he was too late. He didn't make it as far."_

Dean tried to pull free from her but she tightened her grip on him, her arms snaking around him in a cold embrace. She laughed again. Dean felt a stab of pain in his chest as his lungs searched desperately for air. The little he could see was beginning to dissolve into nothing, black dots clouding his vision.

_"Shame, you really are hot. But don't worry: I'm sure I'll find someone else just as good looking pretty soon."_

Dean stared up at her, the salt stinging his eyes, and something red wafted across his vision. For a moment he thought it was just his eyes. Then he realized that his nose was bleeding, and that he could taste coppery blood as well as salt in his mouth. He remembered seeing the same effect on the Siren's previous victims and realized with a jolt that this was how it ended. This was how he was going to die, alone somewhere far beneath the surface of the ocean with a Siren sucking away every last breath he had.

_Air... have to get to air... _but there was no air. There was nothing left to save him, no final way out.

_Sam... _what a way to end things between them - arguing and splitting up. Of all the things that could have happened between them before one of them died, it had to have been this.

Pain speared through Dean's chest and his body convulsed, his eyes slowly closing against his will. He heard Alica's sweet, soft laughter close to his ear and wondered how he could still find it beautiful when it was the thing that was going to kill him. He was aware of one last stinging pain in his head and chest, and in his last moment of consiousness he could hear someone calling his name from somewhere very far away. Then darkness closed over him.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

The sand slipped around beneath Sam's feet, forcing him to run painfully slowly to avoid falling over. He kept the machete held tightly in one hand, glancing out towards the sea every now and then just in case Dean or another Siren came into sight. He no longer cared if some random person saw him, because the tide really _was _coming in. The Siren hadn't lied. If he didn't reach Dean soon, his brother was going to die.

And Sam couldn't let that happen.

The sand abruptly gave way beneath one foot and Sam skidded, but managed to regain his balance and run on without missing a beat. He reached the dark rocks and leapt onto the first one, grazing his knee as he climbed up onto it. He leapt onto the next one, sprinting between them, jumping the smaller rocks and any gaps he came across. He could hear his blood roaring in his ears, mixing with the snarl of the ocean. He reached the end of the group of rocks and stopped on the last rock, the wind tearing at his clothes. He stared out over the sea, panting.

He couldn't see any caves.

Sam swore softly, turning in a full circle as he examined the area around him. The spray of the sea leapt up and snapped at his jeans, flecking him with salty water. The night had painted the ocean in dark blues, purples and black, making it look ominous and threatening. It was now very different from the turqoise water which lapped at the beach in the daylight: the waves thrashed and roared beneath him like a wild animal. Sam stared down at the darkness in horror. Dean could be down there somewhere.

"Dean!" he yelled, his voice swallowed by the roaring of the ocean. "Dean! _DEAN!!_"

He listened, straining his ears, but got not reply. He stepped forwards so that he was standing at the very edge of the rock, teteering precariously on the edge. He filled his lungs and screamed out Dean's name again, as loud as he could.

_"DEAN!"_

His only answer was the snarling of the churning waves. Sam swallowed hard, his heart in his mouth. Dean had to be here, he had to be okay... maybe Sam had missed him somehow. He began to turn towards the beach, thinking about heading back around and searching the shore again, and something glinting in the water beneath him caught his eye. He crouched down, reaching into the icy water, and his fingers tangled in a thin leather cord. He lifted out the object and his stomach lurched. It was Dean's necklace, the one Sam had given him for Christmas when they were little. Sam stared at it in shock. Did this mean... _no._

_He's not dead. I'm not gonna let him die._

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and folded the necklace safely into its pocket. Then he stood up, took a deep, steadying breath, and dived into the icy water.

The water closed over his head and he bit back a shout of shock at how cold it was. Still holding the machete in one hand, he forced himself to move his arms and legs, clawing his way back up to the surface. He took a few deep breaths, and then ducked downwards again. He forced his eyes open, ignoring the stinging the salt caused, and looked around as best he could. He couldn't see anything but dark blurs. He fought his way up again and swam out a little before diving downwards again, squinting through the mist.

_C'mon, Dean, come on..._

Something pale caught his eye and he swam towards it, praying, hoping...

First, he saw silvery hair flowing around ashen grey skin. Then he caught sight of a body clad in jeans, a blue shirt.

_Dean!_

Almost as if he had spoken aloud, the Siren pulled away from Dean and turned to face him. She bared her pointed teeth in a snarl and struck out for him, leaving Dean to sink slowly towards the ocean floor. Panic lurched through Sam as he realized that Dean's skin was abnormally pale, his lips blue, and his eyes shut. Blood was running from his nose and mouth, causing a small red cloud around his face.

_He's not dead, he can't be dead..._

The Siren reached him and made a grab for him, but Sam slipped aside just in time. He swam quickly up to the surface, sucked in another deep breath and then dived downwards again. The Siren surged up to meet him, her face twisted with fury, and she snatched for his jacket with spindly webbed hands. Sam allowed her to grab his free arm and then rolled over so that she was above him. She faltered, disorientated, and Sam twisted his hand to grip her wrist so that they were locked together. He lifted the machete, the weapon heavy and dragging in the water. Fear flashed through the Siren's eyes and she tried to pull away, but raw fury allowed Sam to move like lightning. Blue-black blood seeped outwards, entwined with silver as Sam slashed the machete across the Siren's throat so hard that he felt her spine grate against the blade. For a few moments, her yellow eyes gazed at him in shock. Then he head fell backwards, almost completely seperated from her neck, and her grip on him slackened. Her blood wafted into his face and he pulled back, disgusted. She flickered and then dissolved into the sea.

Only the silvery substance that had emerged from her throat remained. It twisted towards Sam as if it were alive and he pulled away, watching as it wriggled out of sight into the dark water. He waited for a few moments, making sure that it was really gone.

_Dean. Gotta get to Dean._

Sam looked down, panicking when he couldn't see any sign of his brother in the dark water. He wanted to go straight down and look for him, but his lungs were beginning to complain from lack of air. If he went now, he wouldn't have enough strength to get them both back up to the surface. Hating himself, Sam swam back up to the surface again. His head broke through the water and he took a few deep breaths before heading downwards again. The machete slowed him down, so he let it go and swam past it. He could buy another one of them. He couldn't buy another Dean.

He felt the pressure building in his ears as he clawed his way down through the black water, but he ignored it. He had to find Dean, and he didn't care what happened while he was searching. He wasn't going back up without him. His heart began to beat faster as he got further and further down and there was still no sight of Dean. He had to be here somewhere, Sam just had to find him.

_Come on, Dean, come back, _he thought desperately, pausing for a moment and looking around. Nothing. He started to swim again, his lungs already feeling tight.

What if he couldn't find Dean? What if he was too late? What if he had left it too long?

What if Dean was already dead?

**Big cliffie there, sorry! Next chapter should be up soon if I get some more reviews. Thanks to all the people who have reviewed so far. Tell me if you like it or not!**

**Yours, SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	8. Staying

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns.**

In the last chapter...

_Sam looked down, panicking when he couldn't see any sign of his brother in the dark water... he felt the pressure building in his ears as he clawed his way down through the black water, but he ignored it. He had to find Dean... what if he was too late? What if he had left it too long?_

_What if Dean was already dead?_

Sam pulled himself downwards, thousands of tiny bubbles erupting and swirling up around him. He squinted through the salty water, his eyes flicking from side to side. Ignoring the fact that he was underwater, he opened his mouth and screamed out, "Dean!" The cry came out wavering and dim, as if from behind a thick wall, and water rushed into his mouth. Sam managed to blow it out and seal his lips again, aware that he had just wasted precious oxygen. His heart sank in his chest. He was too late, he was never going to find his brother...

A faint glimmer of white beneath him caught his eye and he dived downwards, hardly daring to hope. His heart leapt as he picked out a hand, a face... Dean. He reached his brother and locked his arms around him, stopping his desent to the bottom of the ocean. Dean's body lolled lifelessly in his arms, his eyes firmly closed. Sam gritted his teeth and struck out for the surface, one arm holding Dean tightly against his chest, the other pulling them upwards. It was painfully slow work. Dean's body dragged him downwards, a dead weight in his arms, hampering him on his way up. His legs ached as he kicked harder to make up for the loss of one arm and the extra weight, and his lungs were screaming for air. He tilted back his head and kept his eyes on the surface far above him, squinting through the salt.

With one last final effort, he burst through the surface and gulped down crisp, clean air. He didn't think he had ever been so happy to just _breathe. _The cold air ripped across his wet skin and he let out a shuddering sigh, the water suddenly feeling surprisingly warm. He pulled Dean up beside him, his arms straining, and Dean's head lolled back against Sam's shoulder. Blood glistened wetly on his top lip, nose and the corner of his mouth, slowly trickling down over his neck. Sam gripped his brother tighter around the chest and propelled them both backwards, his own breathing alarmingly loud now that he could hear it again.

A wave rushed over them, plunging them both underwater briefly, but Sam fought his way back up. He glanced behind him before carrying on backwards, keeping Dean's head above the water by resting his forehead against his jaw.

"Almost there," he panted, half to himself. "Gonna be fine... almost there..."

Another wave broke over them and Sam struggled past it, gasping for breath. His head nudged against the rocks and he turned, letting out a long sigh of relief. Thankfully the rocks continued underwater, and he was able to gradually drag Dean up with him as he climbed out of the water. The hairs on the back of his neck and his arms rose as the cold wind whipped over him, making him shiver as he pulled Dean up onto a flatter rock and laid him down on his back. He shook Dean's shoulder, but his brother didn't respond. Sam's stomach twisted.

"Dean? Dean, come on. You can do this, I killed them, they're gone. Come on."

He bent forwards and began compressions on Dean's chest. Nothing happened: Dean remained cold and unresponsive beneath him, his head rolled to one side from the force of the compressions.

"No," Sam whispered, tears pricking at his eyes. "No, come on, Dean. Dean!"

Aburptly, water forced its way over Dean's lips and Dean began to splutter, choking as his body automatically tried to swallow down the water. Sam flinched in surprise and then quickly rolled his brother onto his side, holding him tightly. Dean's body trembled wildly, struggling to empty itself of the sea water.

"You're okay," Sam told him, his voice shaking with relief. "You're okay, Dean, I'm right here. Its Sam. I'm right here, okay? You're fine..."

The last of the water dribbled over Dean's lips and Sam carefully rolled him back onto his back. Dean's eyes were still shut, but his chest was shakily rising and falling as he breathed. He was alive, and that was enough for now. Dean shivered, and Sam remembered the cold wind that was still buffeting them.

"We're going, don't worry," he said quickly, rising to his feet.

He ran down the rocks to collect his jacket and then returned to Dean. He pulled Dean into a sitting position, keeping one arm behind him to keep him there, and wrapped the jacket around Dean's shoulders. Then he curled one arm around Dean just under his shoulders, slipped the other beneath his knees and stood up, hefting his brother in his arms.

"Its okay, Dean," he repeated, clutching his brother's limp body tightly. "You're gonna be fine. We're going back to the car, she'll be happy to see you. She was getting worried, all alone like that."

Dean shivered again, his eyes twitching slightly. His head had lolled to the side to rest against Sam's chest. As he picked his way back over the rocks and onto the sand, Sam felt a small twinge of fear. To have his brother as he was now, shaking and wet in Sam's arms, made Dean seem strangely fragile. Breakable. A glass ornament to be handled with care, something that could shatter into a million peices if Sam dropped him. Biting his lip, he tightened his grip on Dean. He would be fine. He had to be fine.

Thankfully, Sam reached the Impala without being seen by anyone. He put Dean down into the passenger seat and then ran round to the driver's door. He slid the car into gear and pulled out of the car park, accelerating sharply as he hit the road. He glanced at his brother every few moments, keeping one eye on the road and one eye on him.

"Sorry about getting the car wet, Dean," he murmured, desperate to just have some sound to fill the eerie silence. "I'll clean it for you after if you want. That allright?"

He wasn't really expecting an answer, but the silence still sent a chill through him. _He's fine, _he told himself forcefully. _He's out of the water, isn't he? And he's breathing. He'll be fine._ Still, Sam wouldn't have been surprised if he broke a few laws getting back to the motel. The Impala screeched to a halt outside their motel room and Sam leapt out, ripping the keys from the ignition as he went. He shoved the keys into his pocket on his way round to the other side of the car, his hands trembling as the cold air began to eat into him.

"We're back, Dean," he said, pulling the passenger door open. Dean slid towards the ground and Sam ducked forwards to catch him, pulling his brother forwards into his arms. "You hear? We're back at the motel."

Dean's eyes twitched again, his brow furrowing slightly, but he still didn't wake up. Sam pushed the door open with his shoulder, keeping Dean's head clear. He felt a small rush of concern: he could feel tremors running through his brother's body. He moved over towards the closest bed and laid Dean down on it carefully, and then flicked on the light and locked the door. Working as fast as he could with his numbing fingers, he stripped away Dean's soaking clothes down to his boxers and then wrapped a towel around him before pulling the duvet over him. Then he stood still, staring down at his motionless borther, his heart throbbing in his chest.

For a few moments he was at a loss as to what to do. His eyes flickered to the blood on Dean's face, and he swallowed hard. He should probably clear that off... he turned and walked quickly into the bathroom. He grabbed one of the motel's wash cloths and soaked it with warm water, then returned to the main room and knelt down beside his brother. He began to dab at the blood on Dean's face, which was slowly drying. Tiny salt crystals were appearing on Dean's skin as the sea water dried off, and Sam could taste salt on his own lips. He knew that he was shivering, but he didn't care. He could dry off once he knew that Dean was okay. Sam settled down to wait, brushing the wash cloth over the rest of his brother's face once he was convinced that he had got rid of the blood. He didn't care how long it took. He was staying with Dean.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

If this was death, it wasn't so bad. It was definately warmer here, and he wasn't wet anymore. And he was pretty sure that Alica was nowhere near him, which was probably the best part.

_I wonder where Sammy is..._

A rush of sadness flowed through him. Sam would probably never know what had happened to him. He was in Stanford, after all. He really was losing his touch if he had been taken down just because he was on a solo hunt. And by one Siren... he wondered vaugely if Sam would have had the same reaction to her if they'd stayed together. But then, Sam would have found a way out with his collage-boy brain.

Dean shifted slightly to get more comfortable... wait, if he were dead, he shouldn't be able to move his body. He slowly fisted his left hand and then stretched out his fingers. Now that he thought about it, he could feel matireal around him.

_Huh?_

Dean opened his eyes slowly, blinking to bring a plain white ceiling above him into focus. He stared at it for a few moments and then turned his head, frowning.

He was back in the motel. The ceiling light cast a dim light down on the room, and the world outside the curtains was pitch black. Beside him Sam was curled up against the bedside table, soaking wet and dripping water onto the carpet. His nose was running, and his hair hung around his face in a sopping mop. Dean blinked at him for a few moments, his brother who was soaked through, asleep and... and not in Stanford. He swallowed hard to wet his throat and croaked out,

"S'mmy?"

Sam jerked awake, sniffing hard. He sat upright, shaking his head as if to clear it. When he spoke, his voice was slightly thick. "Dean? You're awake..."

"Yeah," Dean said, pushing himself up. His head swam slightly, so he settled for leaning on his elbows. "What 'appened? When did you get back?"

Sam hesitated, dragging a hand across his top lip to stem his running nose. The sight reminded Dean of when his brother had been little, and he couldn't help but smile slightly.

"I... I never left," Sam replied softly, rising up on his knees. "I was at the airport and I... I just couldn't. I was so sure that there was something wrong so I..." his voice trailed off and he shrugged, looking away. "Dean... I don't think there's any way I can ever give up hunting."

Dean stared at him, trying to pull his brain together. "Hunting?"

Sam shook his head. "Its just... I'm in now. You know? And Jessica... my old life... its all gone. And no matter how hard I try, I can't go back." He glanced at Dean, biting his lip. "Its okay, though. I think... I think you and me go pretty well together anyway."

Dean held back the grin that threatened to spread over his face and instead raised one eyebrow. "Well, that was your gayest speech yet, congrats," he said lightly, smirking.

Sam grinned and shook his head. "Thanks," he muttered.

Dean frowned, looking around the motel room again. "But seriously, man, what the hell? I mean, last thing I remember, I was... with her. In the sea."

Sam nodded, folding his arms tightly. "Yeah well, like I said, I got worried. You didn't call so I came down to look for you. I found the Impala but you weren't there so I headed for the beach. I found the first Siren and he told me where you were, so then I went down to the rocks and found you in the sea with the other one. You... you were pretty out of it."

Dean swallowed hard at the thought of his little brother having to drag him out of the sea. That explained why Sam was so wet. Sam looked up and noticed Dean staring at him.

"Its okay, I got them," he said quickly. "I killed them both. At least the hunt's over, right?"

Dean, realizing that Sam had thought he was worried about the Sirens, nodded distractedly. "Yeah. Sam, listen... thanks for getting me outta there."

Sam's eyes went soft, and Dean squirmed. "No problem," Sam said softly.

Dean huffed, embarressment rushing over him from the chick flick moment. He looked Sam up and down. "You hurt? You're all wet, why the hell haven't you showered or something?"

Sam shrugged. "I was looking out for you, in case-"

"Go take a shower," Dean interrupted forcefully. "Go on, scat."

Sam grinned and rose to his feet. He sniffed and wiped his nose again. "I think I'm getting a cold," he muttered.

"If you'd dried off when you came in you wouldn't have ended up with one," Dean replied. His head was throbbing slightly, and he eased back down onto the bed. Sam paused, concern leaping into his eyes.

"Dean?"

"I'm fine, Sam, its just been a long night. Now get outta here."

Sam hesitated but then headed towards the bathroom. Dean sighed silently, looking up at the ceiling. He thought of Alica's face, but felt nothing now. Maybe now that she was dead he was free. He thought of his last memories from earlier that night and shuddered. What was more worrying was the fact that Sam had had to pull him out. Dean glanced towards the closed bathroom door. He hoped Sam was okay... he seemed okay. Relieved, tired, but okay. At least he was back again, and he didn't seem to be planning on leaving. In a way, Dean felt sad. He had never wanted all of this for Sam, having to drag his unconscious brother out of the ocean when he should have been in collage. It would have been great for him to just have a normal life... but Sam was right. Neither of them could give up hunting now. They were too far in.

Dean felt his eyelids beginning to droop. He glanced over to the bathroom door again, closing his eyes as he listened to the steady hiss of the shower.

_Thanks, Sammy... you really saved my ass back there..._

He rolled over onto his side, pulling the duvet around him. Strange, he almost felt as if he was wearing nothing but his boxers... panic speared through him and he looked under the duvet. Sam hadn't, he wouldn't invade Dean's privacy like that...

"SAM! Where the hell are my clothes!?"

**Okay, that's your lot, thanks to everyone who left reviews, especially Ster1 (I think you left one for every chapter!) hope you all liked it.**** Please review the last chapter for me!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


End file.
